Private Unexpected Visitor

[Acier Moonbound]

B O T A J E F
OUTER RIM

The industrial symphony of Botajef's shipyards droned on: the distant hum of repulsorlifts, the clatter of loading droids, and the occasional roar of a departing freighter. The air inside the salvage shop was thick with the scent of scorched metal, a testament to the countless starships that had met their end and found a second life within these walls. Ace stood hunched over a disassembled hyperdrive, his left hand delicately maneuvering a plasma torch to weld a fractured conduit.

A month of lying low seemed to pass by in a haze. Ever since escaping Bonadan, Ace had hopped from system to system in the hope of clearing his tracks before deciding to settle and keep his head down on Taris. For the time being, at least. The mystery of his parents and where he came from still gnawed at the snowy haired young man, and he still planned on putting that question to rest... He just wasn't sure where to start.

Ace had taken a job as a mechanic to get by during his stay, and also wrack up enough credits to continue his journey. It didn't draw attention and he was able to use the skills he'd learned from Mira to earn a decent living. Finishing up on welding the hyperdrive, Ace took a moment's pause realising his work day was almost over. Removing his dusty gloves, Ace began to descend into his thoughts, brainstorming on what comes next for him.

His dark, tired eyes lowered and focused on his right hip - where his lightsaber was, hidden beneath his shirt. Ace's thoughts dwelled on his parents, wondering if they were Jedi. They had to be, right? Why else would he have been left with a lightsaber? Moreso, it'd give credence to his developing Force-sensitivity. Ace's thoughts then shifted once more, his eyes moving from his hip to a desolate hydrospanner across the room. Staring at it for a few moments, Ace directed his hand toward it, stretching his arm out. Closing his eyes tight, he began to focus intensely on the hydrospanner. His desire was to move it, having heard stories from Red about the Force and what the Jedi and Sith could do with it.

"Moro!" A gravelly voice called out to Ace. Quickly shifting his arm back to his side, Ace watched as an overweight Besalisk wandered into the room. "You finished with the hyperdrive, Moro? Client's here for it." Moro was the name Ace had been living under while staying on Botajef.

"Yeah, just finished now. We good, Kit?" Ace replied, turning his head to look at the hyperdrive behind him while pointing over his shoulder. He stepped aside as Kit approached to inspect the hyperdrive, folding three of his arms while hooking his free hand under his chin. "Not bad, kid. Yeah, we're good. Get outta here." Kit confirmed with a smile, reaching into his pockets and handing Ace a nice sum of credits.

Wandering over to his jacket, Ace stashed the credits in his pocket before putting it on "Appreciate it, Kit. I'll see you tomorrow." Departing with a playful smirk and a lazy salute. Ace exited the shop, flipping his hood over his head and releasing a deep exhale. As he strolled the streets of Botajef heading toward the cantina outside the hotel he stayed at, he recalled his failed attempt to use the Force earlier and was reminded of his desire to find a Jedi Master. He wondered that if he found one, any Jedi, that maybe he'd be able to learn about his parents too.

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

Botajef – Industrial District​

The stink of scorched metal clung to the air like a second skin. Rheyla didn’t mind. It reminded her of starship guts and gunpowder—things that never lied.

She moved with casual purpose through the haze of Botajef’s lower levels, her gait unhurried, head scarf draped loosely to frame her lekku, and her cloak tugged just enough to blur the silhouette of armour beneath. Her boots tapped softly on durasteel as she weaved through labourers, droids, and exhaust-choked walkways, eyes flicking toward signs, shop fronts, and faces.

In her hand was a datapad, its screen dimmed, though she had the bounty memorised by now. Male, seventeen or eighteen. Medium brown skin. White dreadlocks. Scar above the eyebrow. Last pinged near this district, using the alias “Moro.” Small bounty—low heat, low risk. But clean creds were clean creds.

She slipped the datapad into her belt pouch as she turned the corner onto a narrower street, the smell of machine oil thickening. The salvage shop matched the description: old, patched together, with a flickering holo-sign and scorched panels by the shutter door. Looked like a place where parts came to die—or be reborn.

Rheyla stepped inside.

The heat hit first, then the glow of plasma torches further in. The source of both: a bulky, grease-slicked Besalisk, still muttering to himself as he rearranged a wall of hyperdrive components. Four arms, three smudged aprons, and at least six half-finished jobs around the room.

“Excuse me?” Rheyla called out gently, voice warm, light as smoke. One hand lifted in greeting, her honey-brown eyes open, disarming. She offered a small, sheepish smile. “Sorry to interrupt—I’m looking for someone who might’ve come through here.”

The Besalisk grunted without looking. “I don’t do missing persons, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m not with anyone official. Just… trying to find a friend of a friend.” She stepped closer, still keeping her posture relaxed, non-threatening. “Young guy. Freckles. Brown skin. White dreadlocks—shoulder length. Has a scar through one brow, kind of lean, and probably keeps his head down a lot. Might’ve gone by Acier, but he could’ve used a different name.”

That finally earned her a squint. The Besalisk turned, arms folding—well, three of them. One still tinkered with a tool on instinct.

“Huh.” He scratched his chin. “Don’t know any Acier. But that description… sounds a lot like this kid ‘Moro’ who works here. Just left, actually—ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago. Headed down the street toward the cantina.”

Her smile deepened, almost apologetic. “Figures. I always miss him by just a little.”

She turned, cloak shifting with her movement, and tossed a look over her shoulder. “Thanks. You’ve been a real help.”

The door whispered shut behind her. Outside, the street stretched ahead like a maze of carbon scoring and neon. She pulled her scarf a little tighter, eyes narrowing now that no one could see.

Moro, huh?

Rheyla’s pace quickened as she slipped into the crowd, blending in like shadow among the noise—on the trail of a white-haired mechanic.

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

The entrance to the cantina slid open and the amalgamation of voices, music, and the clinking of glasses were like a wave to his ears. Acier took a step inside and found himself at a lone table. He didn't know what he was doing here, or why he came here every night after work. Probably because it was the closest thing he could get to social interaction without actually interacting. Ace was always cautious with who he could trust, even moreso nowadays thanks to Tessk's bounty.

Leaning back in his seat and resting his arms on the surface of the table, Ace stared at his hands as he fiddled with his fingers. The white-haired mechanic's mind raced once again. A Jedi. How was he going to find one to train him in this vast galaxy. Ace wondered if the Galactic Alliance would take him in, but it was risky, with everything going on right now, and with how far he was from the territory.

Ace pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, he had no idea how he was going to do this while keeping a low profile. Ace's eyes shifted, his attention returning to the now. He watched all of the patrons, those who were here to unwind after a long day with close friends, others who were here to hook up with members of the opposite or same sex, and those who were here alone to escape their reality. Closing his eyes, he could feel it all, the ebb and flow of all of these feelings, like a pulse. This was the Force, right? Ace was never sure if this was something everyone could sense or if this was exclusive to those who could feel the Force. In Ace's case, this feeling, this... sense, was all he'd ever known.

And with that sense, came certain advantages. Like there was this one, one he'd experienced since childhood that would warn him of things about to go horribly wrong. Whenever this happened or was about to happen, Ace could feel butterflies in his stomach - not the kind you'd get when you were excited or laid eyes on a girl you liked. This was the kind you'd get when you were about to take a huge dip on a giant rollercoaster. That sort of dread.

Right now, Ace was feeling the same kind of dread as he sat annonymously in the cantina...

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

Botajef – Cantina District​

The glow of the cantina sign flickered ahead like a tired heartbeat—pale blue against rusted durasteel. Rheyla slowed her pace, blending with the modest crowd that filtered through the narrow street. Workers, spacers, tired-eyed drifters… no one paid her more than a glance. That was the goal.

The street smelled of engine coolant and cheap fry oil. A busted speeder belched smoke across the alleyway as she passed, and somewhere nearby, two droids argued loudly over docking fees. She let it all roll over her. Noise was good. Noise gave cover.

She stopped short of the entrance, just out of view of the doorway sensors, and leaned lightly against a support beam. Let the hood of her cloak fall back just a little. Just enough to show a sliver of soft blue skin, the shadow of a smile. Just enough to make her blend in like a pretty distraction in the corner of a spacer’s eye.

One breath in. One heartbeat out.

Then she stepped inside.

Warm light, stale air, and the thick pulse of low music greeted her like an old habit. The cantina was the usual sprawl of tired souls and off-world synth-jazz. Tables ringed the floor like orbiting moons, and the booths along the walls sat in shadow—perfect for anyone trying to disappear.

She clocked him immediately.

White dreadlocks. Freckled skin. Scar through the brow. Seated alone in a corner booth.

Even without the bounty description, he stood out in the way people do when they try not to. Too still. Too tense. Watching the crowd, but not really in it. The kind of posture Rheyla had seen in a dozen marks before things went sideways.

She didn’t go for the bar.

Instead, she drifted past it, mugged a half-smile at the bartender in passing, and peeled off toward a booth diagonally opposite his—close enough for a clear line of sight, far enough to keep her profile low.

She sat with her back against the wall, one arm stretched across the back of her seat, cloak slung to one side. From here, she could see the front entrance, the bar, the kid’s table—and more importantly, his hands.

A server droid trundled by. Rheyla offered a soft smile and a quiet order—something light, local, unmemorable. Some fruit-based fizzy drink served in a scratched glass. She didn’t plan to drink it, but having something on the table helped her look like she belonged.

Her eyes drifted once, just once, toward him.

He looked uneasy. Sensing something, maybe. Not panic—just tension. Readiness.

Good.
She liked it when they had instincts. It made the game more interesting.

For now, she just watched. Casual. Patient.
She could wait.
He didn’t even know the trap had already closed.

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

That pit in his stomach continued to gnaw at him. Something was about to go wrong, but what? The feelings he felt were... bad intentions? But that could mean anything. An argument or brawl could break out, or this "bad intent" could simply be a fleeting thought in someone's head. Or... what if someone had found him? Annoyingly, he couldn't pinpoint what this feeling alluded to.

Careful not to be too obvious, Ace's eyes scanned the cantina looking for any hint of suspicion. Difficult part was that the patrons were mostly shady people anyway. This wasn't going to be easy. Tightening his muscles without even realising, Ace dreaded what was to come. The snow-haired mechanic slightly turned his head toward his right side.

A Twi'lek. Ace quickly averted his gaze as to not draw any attention on to himself. He didn't recognise her but that wasn't enough to arouse suspicion. However, Ace was here frequently - he'd come to know the faces of the patrons who'd rotate in and out of the cantina over the month he'd been on Botajef. She was pretty, not uncommon for a Twi'lek, but her features had a sweetness to them - a type of sweetness you wouldn't expect to be here amongst the typical riff raff.

Ace couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that dread festered in his stomach. He still couldn't figure out what or who it was coming from, or if this sense of dread was coming from a place of himself being specifically at risk. Maybe it would be best just to leave and head back to the hotel. Ace quickly made up his mind, placing his palms on the table and pushing himself up from his seat before casually throwing his hood up and heading toward the cantina's exit.

Back outside, the sun had set and night had befell the planet, the underworld's neon lights illuminated the streets with the hue of various colors - red being its most prominent. Across the street was the hotel Ace was staying at, Ace placed his hands in his jacket pockets and took a step off of the curb and began making his way to the hotel lobby.

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

He moved.

Rheyla clocked it the second his posture shifted—shoulders coiling just slightly, like a spring under tension. Not panic, not yet. But close.

Her eyes didn’t follow him directly. She watched his reflection in the ringed surface of her untouched drink. The moment his hood went up, she knew.

You felt me, didn’t you, kid.

He wasn’t sure. Not completely. But he was spooked enough to run.

Good instincts.
Bad timing.

She gave it a beat—let him get a few paces ahead, let him think the danger had passed, that maybe he’d just been too wound up after all. Then she stood, slow and smooth, slinging her cloak over one shoulder and sliding a few credits under her glass for show.

Outside, the night had come down in full. Neon pulsed across the street in deep reds and faded violets, casting long shadows across rusted walls and flickering signs. The air smelled like oil, spice, and ozone.

She saw him immediately. Shoulders hunched, hands in pockets, moving casually—but too fast to be relaxed. Heading for the hotel across the street.

Rheyla didn’t walk straight after him. That wasn’t her style.

She slipped into the crowd instead—angled her pace behind a pair of noisy Rodians and a rattling supply cart. Always with bodies between her and her target, always just far enough back not to trip that uneasy sixth sense again.

Her eyes never left him.

He thought he’d made it. That he’d outpaced whatever his gut had warned him about.

But she was already adjusting the stun setting on her blaster—low pulse, short range. Just enough to drop him before he could make it behind a locked door.

Almost there, she thought, watching him reach the steps of the hotel lobby.

Keep walking, kid. Just a few more steps.

Then the real approach would begin.

As if time slowed them, Rheyla lined up her blaster, a clear shot.
She fired.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

It was still here. The bad intent. Swirling and lingering around the area like a bad odour. Ace continued to keep his head down, picking up pace, he was close to safey. Or so he thought. The bad intent - malice, that feeling continued to grow more and more intense. There was no questioning it anymore, this malice was directed at him which could mean several things:

He'd pissed someone off.
He was about to get mugged.
Or a bounty hunter had found him.

Then he felt it, hitting him like a tidal wave, he felt this unexplainable urge to move. Right now. Listening to his gut, as it had never led him astray before, Ace stepped to his left and immediately a stun bolt grazed his hair, blowing it in the direction of the shot. Ace jumped in surprise, letting out a yelp of shock, as did those around him - for all they knew, the stun bolt could have been for them.

How did he just do that? How did he manage to just anticipate and evade a stun bolt moving at the speed it did? Was this the Force? Ace really needed a teacher because there's so much he doesn't understand about the Force. Now wasn't the time to question how he did what he did though. Ace's whole body whipped around to see a Twi'lek, the Twi'lek from the cantina - blaster barrel smoking and all.

"Kriff..." He muttered before spinning on his heel and taking off without a second's thought. Ace was no stranger to the feeling of adrenaline, his musles feeling like he'd just downed several energy drinks, the snow-haired mechanic used it to his advantage. Ace bolted down the street, shoving and pushing through the crowded sidewalk of the city.

"Dammit to hell, I should've bought a karking blaster for myself!" Ace angrily exclaimed to himself. His dark eyes peered toward an upcoming alley way, he'd have more room to escape that way. As he reached the alley, Ace spun on his heel, keeping up all the momentum he'd built to sprint down the dark neon lit backstreet.

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

The blue ring of the stun bolt cracked through the air—clean, fast, aimed centre-mass.

And he moved.

Too fast.

Not a flinch. Not a stumble. He slipped the shot like he'd seen it coming before she even pulled the trigger.

Rheyla blinked once. Just once.

“...Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her grip tightened. No more patience.

He was already sprinting—cloak flaring, crowd parting around him in ripples of panic and confusion. Civilians ducked. A few screamed. Some just cursed and got out of the way.

She shoved forward, dropping low into a runner’s stance, boots hammering against duracrete. Her cloak snapped behind her as she cut through the mass of startled bodies, weaving around a wheeled vendor cart and ducking under a pair of flailing droid arms. The gap he’d opened was real—but not insurmountable.

Her eyes tracked the white mop bobbing ahead like a target beacon.

“You little kriffer,” she muttered between breaths. “Force-sensitive. Of course you are.”

A woman stumbled into her path—Rheyla side-stepped, caught the woman’s shoulder to steady her without slowing, and pushed forward, leaping over a fallen crate.

Stun shot missed. Chase on.

Fine.

It just meant she'd have to do this the old-fashioned way.

She nearly lost traction turning into the alley, boots skimming across a shallow pool of water as she careened into the narrow, neon-lit backstreet. The kid had momentum—more than she liked. He was fast. Too fast.

She could fire again, try to clip him from this distance—but with him being Force-sensitive? Those odds were dropping by the second. Instead, she jumped—heels clicking—and activated the compact thrusters embedded in her boots.

The propulsion kicked, a sharp hiss of power, and Rheyla surged forward like a bolt loosed from a crossbow. The alley blurred past in streaks of red and violet glow. Still airborne, she raised her blaster and fired two quick stun bolts downrange, chasing the bounty with speed—and voltage.

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Acier continued to sprint down the alley, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. He knew she was still chasing him, he knew he needed to defend himself. Begrudgingly, Ace fidgeted at his belt, moving his jacket out of the way and shakily unclipped his lightsaber. Then he heard the sound of rocket propulsors, that caught his attention.

A gasp escaped his lips and he stopped and turned for a second to see the Twi'lek girl airbound with her blaster aimed toward him. Then 2 blue circular bolts left the chamber. Instinctually and all in one motion, the snow-haired mechanic ignited the lightsaber - its snap hiss echoing through the alley - and swung his lightsaber in a backhanded motion dispersing one. But the second came too fast for Ace's untrained reflexes and hit him point blank.

For a split second, Ace could feel his nervous system flare, every point in his body feeling completely overstimulated. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body fell backward, hitting the duracrete hard. He was out. The lightsaber rolled out of his hand and stopped when it hit the wall.

Suddenly, a hoarse and gravelly laugh could be heard but its source of origin was unseen. However, the Twi'lek wouldn't need to be guessing for long. A Zabrak, clad in a leather trench coat and fitted with a ton of equipment and gadgets, stepped out from the shadows behind where the Twi'lek would be.

"Been lookin' for ya, Blue." The Zabrak said, greeting her with a smirk "That Imp Officer you pissed off ain't forgot about ya." the Zabrak's eyes gravitated to Ace's unconscious body sprawled out on the floor "What's this? Bounty you're after?" the Zabrak unclipped his blaster from his holster, aiming it at the Twi'lek "Well, I don't mind takin' ya both in. More credits for me."

The Zabrak was Dro Elamon, a notorious Bounty Hunter in the Outer Rim who never failed to catch his targets "Now be a doll and make this easy on both of us, Rheyla. Ya know you ain't got a chance against me."

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

She hit the ground running—literally.

Boots slammed down as the propulsion sputtered out, cloak whipping forward as Rheyla landed in a crouch right next to the kid’s body.

Still.

Lightsaber smoking.

Blaster still hot.

“Well,” she muttered, brushing a lekku out of her face. “Guess one of those shots was a good idea.”

She holstered the blaster and nudged the saber away with her boot, keeping her eyes on the alley’s end—just in case the brat decided to pop up swinging. But Ace didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Knocked clean out.

Then the laugh came.

Low. Gravel-throated.

Rheyla didn’t need to look to know who it belonged to.

Kriff.

She turned anyway. And there he was—leather coat, smug grin, a whole mess of gadgetry strapped across his chest like he was cosplaying a walking supply crate.

“Dro Elamon,” she sighed. “Figures. You smell the credits before the body’s even cold?”

"Been lookin' for ya, Blue," he said, like it was a joke they both shared. “That Imp officer you pissed off? Still real salty.”

Her smile was all teeth. “Aw. I was starting to think he’d moved on. Glad to know I’m still living rent-free in that little Imperial brain of his.”

He motioned lazily at Ace’s limp body. “What’s this? Your bounty?”

Rheyla stood, blaster back in hand, without fanfare.

“Yeah. Was having a lovely chase ‘til you waddled in like a damn side quest.”

Dro’s aim didn't waver. “Well, I don’t mind takin’ you both in. Double the credits.”

Rheyla blinked, deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

She took one slow step forward, hands relaxed at her sides.

“Dro,” she said dryly, “you do remember what happened the last time you tried to tangle with me, right? Or did that concussion knock the memory loose?”

He smirked. “Different now.”

“Yeah? You get taller?” Her blaster twitched slightly. “That's rich coming from you, Blue”

The tension crackled—a hair’s breadth from chaos.

Rheyla’s tone dropped an octave, cool and easy. “Look, I’m not in the mood for your Banthaboy cosplay right now. I’ve got a job. That bounty”—she jerked her chin toward Ace—“is mine. And if you think I’m letting some washed-up Imp’s errand boy drag me in on a half-assed grudge gig…”

She smiled again. This time, it was mean.

“…You’re welcome to try.”

The alley held its breath.

Somewhere, a sign flickered in and out. Steam hissed from a nearby grate. Ace lay motionless between them, sabre cooling beside his hand.

And Rheyla... Rheyla didn’t move.

Neither did Dro.

It was a standoff, plain and simple—spaced out just enough to draw, just close enough for one wrong twitch to decide the winner.

Her grip stayed easy on the blaster, low-slung at her thigh. His was already up, aimed—but his finger hadn’t squeezed. Yet.

"Still short," she repeated, tone light. “You ever think about platform boots, Dro? Could work wonders for your self-esteem.” She knew he hated it when she called him short.

He snorted. “You always talk this much shit with a blaster pointed at your face?”

“Only when I’m bored. And I was chasing someone.” She nodded toward Ace. “You’re kind of interrupting.”

Dro gave her a look—half amused, half exasperated. “Kriff, you never shut up.”

“And you still haven’t learned to shoot first.” Rheyla cocked her head. “Some bounty hunter you are.”

He chuckled, adjusting his stance slightly, careful. “Don’t need to shoot first. You’re predictable, Blue. Always got some trick up those sleeves. Or boots. Or wherever you stash your little surprises.”

She didn’t deny it.

Just smiled. “Takes one to know one, Dro.”

Their eyes locked.

Silence.

Then—

“You really gonna fight me over this kid?” he asked, gesturing toward Ace’s limp form. “Looks half-starved and fully unconscious.”

Rheyla’s voice stayed steady. “He’s worth more than he looks.”

Dro’s eyes narrowed. “To who?”

“None of your business.”

He shifted his weight. “If the Empire wants you bad enough to send me a blank cheque, don’t you think they’ll take the brat too? Package deal.”

“Or maybe,” Rheyla said, tone suddenly sharper, “I just don’t like you taking what’s mine.”

Beat.

Dro whistled low. “You’re really pulling the Mandalorian possessiveness card? Thought you gave that up.”

“I gave up the creed,” she said coolly. “Not my edge.”

Their fingers hovered—her at her hip, him steady on the trigger.

"You know, Rheyla..." he muttered. "There’s a reason I haven’t brought you in yet. Even when I had the shot."

She arched a brow, lekku twitching. “Yeah? Sentimental over me, Dro?”

He ignored that. “'Cause every time I see you, you’re tangled in some fresh mess. Some kid. Some cause. Some chaos. And I think—nah. She’ll burn herself out before I even need to lift a finger.”

Rheyla smiled like a sabacc bluff. “Keep betting on that, old man. See how far it gets you.”

He huffed. “You're a pain in my ass.”

“And you're blocking my exit.”

Neither blinked.

Then a soft whir from her vambrace. Just a small noise. Subtle.

Dro’s jaw tensed. “Don’t.”

“Didn’t say I would,” she said lightly.

“But you thought about it.”

“Oh,” Rheyla nodded. “Definitely.”

The silence returned. The tension tightened.

Then—

"You sure you wanna do this?" he asked.

"Every day I wake up," she replied, "I hope someone gives me a good reason to."

And for a moment, Dro laughed.

It was real. Rough. And edged with something like respect.

“Stars, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” she said, smirking, “I’m still standing.”

His finger twitched.

Hers didn’t.

The stand-off had seconds left in it—one way or another.

The alley snapped to life in a single breath.

A trash droid whirred obliviously down the far end. Steam curled under neon signage. Rheyla’s lekku tensed a half-second before Dro’s finger moved.

She ducked.

The blaster bolt screamed past her cheek, searing the edge of her hood. She rolled low, fired back—twice—bolts ricocheting off a wall where Dro had already side-stepped. His coat flared as he moved, shifting behind a crate, returning fire with quick, precise shots.

Another bolt grazed her boot.

She hissed. “Kriff, Dro! That was my favourite!”

He didn’t respond—too busy trying to end her.

She dove behind a rusting water tank, her breath sharp and focused. Smoke rose from a melted pipe near her elbow. Think fast.

"Still wearing that antique scope, huh?" she called. "Real professional."

“Still hiding behind junk?” he fired back. “Classic Rheyla.”

She grinned. "You love it."

Then—movement.

A blur.

Rheyla surged forward. Not with her blaster—but with her hand sliding under her beltline, fingers slipping into a sheath no one ever noticed.

A click.

Small, wicked. A vibroblade, compact and cruel, snapped into her grip.

She vaulted over a broken crate, twisting mid-air, cloak flaring wide like wings.

Dro turned—too late.

Rheyla landed on him, feet slamming into his chest, knocking him back two staggering steps. Her blade flashed toward his side.

He caught her wrist.

Barely.

“Of course you brought a knife,” he growled.

“Of course you didn’t expect it,” she shot back.

They grappled. Close. Brutal. One of his arms wrapped around her middle, slamming her sideways into a rusted pipe with a metallic clang. She gasped—but didn’t drop the blade.

He swung.

She ducked, slammed her head forward—forehead to chin, stunning him.

“Old trick,” she hissed.

"Still hurts," he spat, stumbling back.

She kicked off the wall—spun—and drove forward again, slashing.

Dro barely parried with his gauntlet, sparks flying as metal kissed metal. He punched her square in the ribs—once, twice—knocking the wind from her lungs.

Her knees buckled. She fell back—

—and crashed into a large metal refuse container with a resounding bang, its lid flipping open and scattering rotting food packets and broken servos.

She lay still for a second. Then:

"...Ow."

Dro wiped blood from his lip, approaching slowly and steadily.

“You done yet?” he exhaled, pointing his blaster at Rheyla, who only poked her tongue out at him in a childish display.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Ace's eyes slowly blinked open and a small, quiet groan left his mouth. He stayed motionless on the ground, body feeling rock solid after being hit by that Twi'lek's stun bolt. As he was coming to, Ace could hear the faint sound of muffled voices, grunting to be specific, either two people were in a scuffle... or something more intimate.

Slowly, Ace lifted his head off the ground, still groggy, his vision was faint but he could make out what he was seeing. It was the Twi'lek who was after him, at the mercy of some Zabrak he'd never seen before. He had her completely dead to rights.

Ace deliberated, his options were limited: wait for the pair of Bounty Hunters to kill each other, try and fight them while they were distracted, or cut his losses and escape. The smartest thing he could do would be to sneak away while they were distracted but these guys seemed like professionals, would he even be able to do this successfully?

The risk just had to be taken - Ace glanced over to where his lightsaber had rolled off to, couldn't leave without it. So, he would need to make this quick.

The kid who was way in over his head, sat up quickly and rushed over toward his lightsaber with his arm stretched out to grab it.

Meanwhile, Dro, blaster still pointed at Rheyla, briefly shifted his attention to Acier "Uh-uh" he uttered as he used his free hand to aim at Ace. A whipcord shot out of the Zabrak's vambrace. Luckily, Ace was able to reach and grab his lightsaber in time as the whipcord constricted the kid's arms together, coiling tight around his entire torso.

"Can one of you idiots tell that moron Tessk that I didn't double-cross him!" Ace exclaimed with a mixture of frustration and fear .

Dro made the mistake of keeping the whipcord attached to his vambrace, thinking fast on his feet, Ace ignited his lightsaber and rotated his wrist to slice the whipcord strand. Simultaneously, Ace had detached himself from Dro and released himself from being tied up. Leading with his right foot and holding his lightsaber with both hands pointing it at the pair of bounty hunters, Ace entered a stance that conveyed he knew what he was doing, but that was furthest from fact.

"Don't make me kill you both." he bluffed, making sure to keep his tone clear and confident.

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

The second the whipcord snapped free, Rheyla moved.

She rolled from the heap of trash and durasteel she’d been slammed into, grimacing through bruised ribs and the smell of something definitely not food-grade. One hand yanked her cloak free from a snagged nail, the other levelled her blaster back at Dro without hesitation.

“Still a little rude to throw a girl into a dumpster on the first date,” she muttered, brushing off grime as she kept her aim steady. “At least buy me a drink first, Dro.”

The Zabrak didn’t move—but both blasters stayed up. One trained on the limping Twi’lek, the other on the kid with the saber and the shaking wrists. He exhaled through his nose. Slow. Controlled. Irritated.

“You always run that mouth when you’re cornered,” Dro grunted, his voice a gravelly mix of warning and weariness. “One of these days, someone’s gonna get tired of the sound and put a bolt in that sharp tongue.”

A beat. His lips twitched, not quite a smile—closer to a sneer wrapped in reluctant amusement.

She didn’t look at Ace—yet—but her lekku twitched, tracking the sound of his lightsaber as it ignited. Then came the line:

"Don't make me kill you both."

Rheyla blinked.

Then, in the middle of a standoff, blasters still hot and tension razor-thin, she snorted.

“At least try and sound threatening” She took one half-step to the side, not enough to break the triangle, but just enough to reposition—careful, measured, calculating.

Dro's finger hovered near the trigger. It wasn’t a bluff. He would shoot. He was just waiting—calculating—because Rheyla was unpredictable. And Dro Elamon didn’t like unpredictable.

The triangle held for one breath. Two.

Then Dro moved first.

The blaster aimed at Ace didn’t fire—not conventionally, anyway. His vambrace lit up with a sharp pulse, and a shockwave—invisible, concussive, brutal—slammed forward like a freight train. Point blank.

The invisible, concussive shockwave, if connected, would launch Ace backwards, giving Dro time to deal with the annoyance Twi'lek girl who's constantly biting more than she can chew.

Simultaneously, Dro pulled the trigger with his other hand—crack!—a blaster bolt seared through the air toward Rheyla.

She twisted, not fast enough to dodge completely—but just enough that it struck her beskar chestplate dead centre. The impact rocked her, forcing a hiss through clenched teeth as she stumbled.

Before she could recover, Dro was already on her.

His boot came low and hard.

Rheyla barely got her forearms up, shielding her face as the kick slammed into her guard and launched her backward—again—right into the open dumpster with a crash of clangs and trash.

“Kriffing—OW!” echoed inside the bin, followed by a scrabble of limbs and a dented lid flopping shut for half a second before popping open again.

Dro didn’t smirk.

He didn’t need to.

He advanced a step, both blasters still hot, eyes flicking between the now-sabre-wielding kid and the twice-dumped Twi’lek.

“Last warning,” he said coldly. “Try something stupid again—and I’ll stop pulling punches.”

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Ace's brow furrowed at the Twi'lek's jab, a flicker of wounded pride twisting his expression. His grip on the lightsaber hilt tightened, knuckles blanching with pressure. He clenched his jaw behind pressed lips, the sting of the insult flaring hotter than he wanted to admit.

"I know you're not talking," he shot back with a scoff.

His eyes bounced between the two bounty hunters closing in on him, but lingered mostly on the Zabrak—Dro. This was bad. Two trained mercs with ranged weapons, tech, and actual skill. And him? A lightsaber he couldn't use and a death wish if he made the wrong move. If he was getting out of this alive, he'd need more than luck—he'd need a miracle.

Then Dro raised his hand. A second later, a concussive wave of force exploded out toward Ace. His eyes went wide—too wide—just before he shut them tight, bracing for impact.

The blow hit him like a speeder at full throttle. Air ripped from his lungs as he was launched off his feet, body flailing in the air like a ragdoll. He barely had time to register the alley spinning around him before the ground rushed back to meet him. A sharp jolt cracked through his back as he slammed onto the duracrete, skidding with a dull scrape of fabric and flesh.

A grunt forced its way from his throat. His chest heaved, wheezing in quick bursts as he tried to breathe again. Then—through blurred vision—he caught it. The Twi'lek. Launched into a dumpster with a clang. He smirked, fighting back a snicker.

"Serves you right," he muttered under his breath.

They were right back where they started: him on the ground, the Twi'lek in the trash, and the Zabrak standing tall with blasters trained on her.

Except this time, he wasn't running. No more mistakes. No more hesitation. If he ran again, he'd just end up flat on his back—again. He needed to use the chaos and make it work for him.

His eyes scanned the alley. Debris everywhere. Then—he spotted it. A trash can lid, blown loose by the blast. Without a second thought, he grabbed it, and with one sharp movement, flung it like a makeshift frisbee straight at Dro's head.

The loud clang that was durasteel connecting the flesh echoed throughout the alley.

"OW! Dammit!" Dro roared, staggering as the lid smacked off his dome.

Acier was already moving. He pushed up from the ground, lightsaber igniting with a familiar snap-hiss, and sprinted straight for the bounty hunter.

"Forget bringing you in alive!" Dro barked, fury taking over. "You're dead!"

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

“Forget bringing you in alive! You're dead!”

Dro’s roar echoed down the alley as he stumbled a step, shaking off the clang of metal ringing in his skull. His aim wavered for half a breath—just enough.

Rheyla didn’t waste it.

The dumpster lid exploded outward as she vaulted from the bin, cloak trailing smoke and garbage as she sprang. Her boots hit the ground in a skid, momentum barely caught—then she surged forward.

“Trash day’s cancelled, kriffer!” she shouted, just as her arm whipped out from beneath her cloak.

A blade flashed—short, curved, and absolutely not standard issue. Hidden in the seam of her vambrace, it gleamed once before Rheyla lunged low, aiming for Dro’s side.

The Zabrak pivoted just in time—his vambrace caught the blade, sparks flaring—but the twist of his torso opened his guard for Ace.

The kid was already on him.

Lightsaber lit, blade angled—clearly no master’s stance, but fueled by adrenaline, panic, and spite. He slashed at Dro’s midsection—

—and Dro moved.

One blaster discharged in a wild arc as the other was tossed to the side. He caught Rheyla’s knife wrist with his free hand, twisting her arm painfully. At the same time, he ducked under Ace’s saber swing and headbutted the kid square in the chest, knocking the air from his lungs again.

Rheyla twisted with the grab—too fast—and slammed her elbow into Dro’s throat.

The Zabrak choked, grip loosening, just enough for her to wrench free and kick off the nearest wall, flipping behind him in a fast, dirty roll. Her boot hit the ground, and she fired mid-spin—two bolts at his back.

Dro rolled forward to dodge, hitting the ground in a controlled fall and recovering into a crouch behind a half-toppled crate.

Blaster in one hand, knife in the other.

He growled.

“Every time,” he hissed. “Always turns into a damn circus with you.”

From her new cover, Rheyla wiped a smear of grime off her cheek with the back of her hand and flashed a grin toward Ace—just before another bolt sizzled past her head and blew apart a barrel.

“Hey, kid?” she called.

“Do some magic or something!” She wiggled her knife-hand with three fingers to imitate using the Force. Multiple bolts flew past them, to which Rheyla returned fire in quick succession.

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Ace's lightsaber hissed through the air, narrowly missing Dro's torso as the Zabrak ducked low. Of course it did—nothing was ever simple. Using his momentum, Dro retaliated with a brutal headbutt to Ace's chest. The impact sent him staggering back, gasping for air.

He wasn't new to fights; the orphanage and the streets had taught him to scrap. But Dro was in a different league entirely. Still, Ace wasn't about to roll over. He'd fight until he couldn't.

As the two bounty hunters clashed again, Ace darted behind a dumpster, pressing his back against its cold, metallic surface. His eyes locked onto Rheyla, who had taken cover herself across from his left.

She called out, referring to him as "kid." She couldn't have been much older than him. Ace's brown eyes met her azure features, a mix of focus and irritation in his gaze. She demanded he "do magic"—use the Force. Unfortunately, he was nowhere near mastering it.

"If it were easy, I wouldn't be stuck between you two idiots!" he hissed through gritted teeth.

Ace's chest still ached from Dro's headbutt, but he forced himself upright, adrenaline dulling the pain. He glanced at Rheyla, who was returning fire with practiced precision. Her earlier quip echoed in his mind.

Peeking ever so slightly behind the dumpster, Ace watched as Dro's attention was, again, focused on Rheyla. An advantage of not presenting as much of a threat is that opponents tend to overlook you. Extinguishing his lightsaber, Ace carefully angled his right hand in the direction of Dro, mindful to not draw his attention.

"Keep his attention on you." he murmured to Rheyla.

He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. The Force was elusive, like trying to grasp smoke. But he had to try. Closing his eyes for a split second, he reached out—not with his hands, but with his senses. The world slowed. He could feel the vibrations of the blaster shots, the tension in the air. Then he felt it, like a flicker or a spark. Without hesitating, the white-haired boy thrust his hand forward.

A sudden, invisible force surged from his palm, catching Dro off guard. The Zabrak was propelled backward, crashing into a stack of crates with a grunt. Splinters flew as the makeshift cover collapsed around him.

"If you've got something up your sleeve, now's the time!" he exclaimed, calling out to Rheyla.

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

Blaster bolts hissed past her head as Rheyla slid behind cover, the scent of scorched metal thick in the air. Her shoulder ached. Her ribs definitely weren’t thrilled either. Somewhere to her left, she caught a flash of movement—white hair scrambling behind a dumpster. The kid was still alive.

Great, she wouldn't have to carry her dead bounty once Dro was dealt with.

Then his voice: “If it were easy, I wouldn't be stuck between you two idiots!”

Rheyla scoffed and returned fire back at Dro's dual blaster fire.

“If you had just stayed still when I shot at you,” she shouted back, ducking as Dro’s blasterfire chewed the edge of her cover, “we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

A bolt sizzled overhead. She grimaced, adjusting her grip. Across the alley, Dro was bearing down again—relentless, efficient, too damn smug. But his eyes weren’t on the kid.

Good.

“Keep his attention on you,” came the boy’s voice again—softer this time.

She blinked, then rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.

“Oh sure,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear. “Oh, sure! Let me just dance in front of shorty with two blasters and anger issues while you do wizard nonsense in the background!”

Another bolt snapped past her, singeing the edge of her sleeve.

“You owe me danger pay for this, Laserbrain!”

The return fire paused.

Just for a second.

Then, from behind the stack of crates, came Dro’s furious bellow:
“I’M SIX FEET TALL, YOU TWIG-LEK SCHUTTA!”

Rheyla cackled—an actual laugh, sharp and delighted, even as she ducked again to avoid the hail of blaster bolts that followed.

“Oh no, did I hit a nerve?” she called sweetly. “You sure you’re not five-ten and just rounding up with your boots?”

“I SWEAR, WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, I WILL CHOKE YOUR BLUE ASS, RHEYLA!”

“You flirt! But I'm not into horny men anymore!” she shouted over her shoulder—teasing, loud enough for Dro to hear. The double meaning mixed with innuendo hit with all the subtlety of a stun grenade.

She rose from cover with practised grace, blaster already raised—just as a crack split the air and Dro was flung backwards by a sudden invisible blast. He slammed into a crate stack, crates splintering on impact.

She grabbed Acier around his waist, pulled him in close—and the next second, his boots left the ground as her rocket boosters flared to life with a shriek of fire and smoke. They blasted upward, hugging the grimy alley wall, the heat of the exhaust searing scorch marks into the duracrete below.

The lift was anything but smooth. Her boots weren’t made for two, and the added weight strained the thrusters—one sputtered with a warning whine, the other overcorrected. They veered, scraped the edge of a balcony, and slammed awkwardly onto the rooftop above the alley. Rheyla hit the surface in a shoulder roll, half-dragging Ace with her. Two blaster bolts screamed up after them, carving chips off the roof’s edge with deadly heat.

Breathless, she turned sharply, lekku whipping in sync with her momentum. “This won’t stop Horny down there. So move your bounty ass!” she snapped, and gave him a shove between the shoulder blades—forceful enough to make the point clear.

The rooftop wasn’t exactly an upgrade.

They stood on a wide, uneven expanse of rust-streaked durasteel plating, patchy with water stains and cluttered with leftover maintenance gear: a busted condenser unit, loose cables snaking like tripwires, and a toppled vent grille half-covered in soot. Beyond the rooftop’s perimeter, the neon sprawl of the district flickered through the haze—advertisement holos blinking in sickly colours, glowing signs casting strange shadows across the high-rise maze. The cityscape breathed smoke and electricity.

Further out, speeders zipped through designated lanes above them, oblivious to the chaos below. A scaffold ran along one corner of the roof, leading to an adjacent building—older, lower, but still connected. It might be a way out. Or another trap. But options were few.

Below, a furious Zabrak was already on the move again—his silhouette visible through the steam rising from a ground-level vent.

Rheyla exhaled sharply. “He’s gonna be up here in seconds. Unless you’ve got another trash can lid, I suggest you run, sparkleboy.”

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Ace blinked, still reeling from the realisation that he'd managed to produce a telekinetic push. The crates had exploded outward, and Dro had been flung back—by him. He stared at his outstretched hand, disbelief etched across his face.

A sudden grip around his waist jolted him back to reality. Before he could react, Rheyla had activated her boot thrusters, and they were airborne. The ascent was anything but smooth; the added weight strained the thrusters, causing them to sputter and veer. They scraped the edge of a balcony before crashing onto the rooftop.

Ace groaned, pushing himself up and shaking his head to clear the haze, white locks thrashing. He turned to Rheyla, ready to thank her, but the words caught in his throat. She had saved him, but was it out of concern or self-interest? The bounty on his head loomed large in his mind.

As they both stood, Ace heard Rheyla barking at him to get a move on followed by a shove behind him. Ace spun around, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched.

"So what? So you can cash in on me?" he shot back "I hope you and the Zabrak kill each other, and I mean that sincerely!".

Without thinking, he was gone. Not wanting to stick around for when Dro found them, and also hoping to get away from Rheyla once more Ace darted toward the scaffolding that connected to the adjacent building. Its stability was a concern, but this was survival and hesitation meant capture or worse.

Ace summoned all of his strength and propelled himself forward, landing on the scaffolding with a thud. It shook under his added weight, but he didn't stop. Each step he took was a gamble. Reaching the edge of the scaffolding, he jumped once more and landed on the next rooftop with a roll, using his momentum, he got up and kept running.

The city's labyrinthine layout offered no clear path, but upward seemed safer at least. Ace jumped and reached out to grab the bottom of a fire escape before pulling himself up to climb. Suddenly, a blaster bolt sizzled past, barely missing Ace's cheek. Dro was relentless. Then he wondered if Rheyla was following him, but there was no time to check.

Atop the building, Ace spotted a maintenance hatch...

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

Rheyla barely caught the last word before the kid bolted.

“I hope you and the Zabrak kill each other, and I mean that sincerely!”

“Oh, real mature!” she barked after him, already sprinting.

He made for the scaffolding. She didn’t.

Her rocket boots flared to life mid-stride—just enough lift to arc clean over the groaning metal deathtrap he was gambling his life on. She landed hard beside him with a clank of durasteel, shoulder to shoulder as he scrambled forward.

“Cute tantrum back there,” she huffed, glancing sideways. “Didn’t realize I was babysitting and bounty hunting today.”

Blaster fire lit up the rooftop edge behind them—Dro, naturally, too pissed off to die quietly. A bolt screamed past her ear.

She didn’t flinch.

“Keep running, sparkleboy. I’m not losing my payday because you decided to be difficult”

She shoved him forward again—not as hard this time. Just enough to remind him she was there, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

Blaster bolts screamed overhead as Rheyla and the kid made a mad dash for the rooftop maintenance hatch. One bolt came too close—way too close—sizzling the air inches from her lekku.

She hissed under her breath, her lekku twitching instinctively. “That’s it, I’m shaving your horns while you sleep, Dro!”

She fired a few shots back over her shoulder—messy, mostly for cover. Her aim wasn’t meant to kill this time, just to buy them seconds.

The hatch came into view.

Locked.

Of course.

“Move,” she snapped, skidding to a stop. Without hesitation, she raised her blaster and fired a tight bolt straight into the locking mechanism. It sparked, whined, then popped open with a hiss of smoke and fried circuits.

“Knock knock,” she smirked, planting one boot to the kid’s back and shoving him forward. “Ladies first.”

She dropped in right after him—holding something metal in her hand.

The thermal detonator.

The landing wasn’t graceful. Her boots skidded across the grimy metal floor, and she hit shoulder-first into a wall with a grunt, catching herself before she fully faceplanted. She popped up a second later, dusting off like it was all part of the plan.

“Tenth floor access corridor. Charming,” she muttered.

She tossed Ace a grin, then flicked her thumb across the detonator's switch. It began to pulse.

“Count to ten,” she said, oh-so-casually.

Then she grabbed him by the wrist again—because clearly asking wasn't working—and took off at a sprint. They barreled down the metal stairs, boots clanging, the detonator's blinking behind them like a heartbeat.

She didn’t slow.

Shoulder-first, she slammed into a door near the landing. It gave with a painful screech of old hinges, leading into a dim hallway cluttered with disused crates and blinking wall panels.

Another tug on Ace’s sleeve and they ducked behind the nearest bulkhead—just as the floor above erupted with a deep, concussive BOOM. The explosion shook the walls, knocking dust from the ceiling and setting off a brief flicker in the overhead lights.

Rheyla exhaled, grinning like the maniac she was. “See? That’s why I’m the fun one.”

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Atop the building, Ace spotted a maintenance hatch. He rushed toward it, hoping for a quick escape. But as he reached for the handle, he found it locked. Frustrated, he was about to ignite his lightsaber to carve an entry when Rheyla skidded beside him.

"Move," she snapped.

Before he could respond, she raised her blaster and fired a tight bolt straight into the locking mechanism. It sparked, whined, then popped open with a hiss of smoke and fried circuits.

Ace felt a boot press onto his back, then a small force thrusting him forward. He staggered into the hatch but managed to land into a crouch. The Twi'lek jumped in behind him, fumbling her own landing and almost faceplanting the wall.

Scowling at her with disdain, Ace contemplated. He hadn't taken a life yet, despite all the questionable things he'd done in the past, but he was seriously considering ending the Twi'lek's life when she wasn't looking. She wouldn't leave him alone, and her mere presence was a threat.

Before he could come to any kind of resolution, he heard a beep. Ace didn't realize until now that Rheyla was carrying a thermal detonator. She had to be certifiably insane.

As he opened his mouth to call her everything under the sun, she grabbed him by the wrist and took off with him in tow. Ace contemplated punching her in the back of the head for several reasons. The main two being that she just risked both of their lives with the detonator, and the fact she was still trying to pawn him.

Then they were outside, thanks to the Twi'lek's expert shoulder check—slamming the exit wide open. Once outside, she again grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind the closest bulkhead.

The ground trembled beneath their feet as the distant explosion from the thermal detonator echoed through the cityscape. Ace's chest heaved, each breath a struggle against the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He turned sharply to face Rheyla, eyes blazing with a mix of fear and fury.

"What the hell was that?" he spat, voice trembling. "You could've killed us both! Not to mention anyone else in that building! I don't need that on my conscience!"

In one swift motion, he drew his lightsaber and shoved the emitter under Rheyla's chin. His thumb rested on the switch, Ace wasn't stupid, he knew she was fast and he knew she could grab him and disable him - he needed a failsafe. If she touched him, jogged him in anyway, his thumb was going to press down on the switch whether he wanted it to or not.

"Let me go." he demanded, voice low and steady. "Forget the bounty. That Zabrak's after you, you're his main target. Not me. Use this chance to disappear."

Rheyla Tann

 

[Rheyla Tann]

Rheyla froze.

Not from fear—never that—but because she knew exactly what that thumb on the switch meant.

Her gaze flicked down just slightly. The emitter rested dead-centre beneath her chin. One twitch of his thumb and it’d be the galaxy’s shortest haircut. She’d seen sabres before. Not many. Once during a job that went sideways on Dantooine. Another time in the Creed, back when they still whispered about Force-types like they were ghosts. She’d seen what one of those blades could do to armour. To bone.

And yeah, she probably could move faster than his thumb.

Probably.

But ‘probably’ wasn’t odds she bet her life on.

So instead, Rheyla smiled.

Not wide. Just enough.

“...Wow,” she said lightly, “you do wake up fast when there’s explosives involved.”

Her hands lifted slowly, palms out, voice smooth as she added, “Gotta say, I’m kinda impressed. Not by the sabre—seen ‘em before. But by you growing a spine this fast.” She pushed against the emitter, feeling the metal press deeper without breaking skin, eyes glinting. She was flirting with the danger he forced her into.

With a wink, she murmured. “Thing is, sparkleboy… If you’re gonna kill me, at least buy me dinner first. Or, y’know—look me in the eyes while you do it.”

Her voice dropped just a little lower, teasing but grounded. “But hey, if we’re doing dramatic ultimatums now, I’d love a warning before you start monologuing.”

A beat.

“You wanna let me go? Fine. But don’t pretend it’s out of principle. You just don’t know what to do with me.”


Acier Moonbound